


Everlark Writing Meme Drabble Collection

by titania522



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Drabble Meme, Gen, Tumblr Prompt, everlark, jealous!Peeta, notanislander, teenage everlark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:34:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titania522/pseuds/titania522
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fics based on a tumblr writing meme.  I have about about fifteen more in my ask box and as they are written, I'll add them as chapters here and they'll be filed in the subcategory Drabbles and Short Works by Titania.  I will write them in between my longer works.  They'll have working titles for each chapter they are not intended to be long at all.  Thank you for reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wait a Minute, Are You Jealous? - Prompt #5

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotAnIslander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAnIslander/gifts), [DandelionLass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandelionLass/gifts).



> This one was requested by Notanislander and the prompt was simply “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” (Prompt #5). Thank you, Notanislander, for the lovely prompt :).
> 
> In this chapter, Peeta shows his jealous side. Modern AU. High School Everlark.

**5\. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”**

 

Gale pulled up in front of Mellark’s Family Bakery, where Katniss had agreed to meet Peeta at the end of his shift before heading to her house. “Thanks for the ride,” she said as she reached behind her in the space of the cramped Jeep to collect the quiver of arrows that lay in the bed.  She grunted as she tried unsuccessfully to maneuver the bow between the driver and passenger seat.

“Hol’ up, Catnip!  You’re gonna break it,”  Gale hopped out, the height of the Jeep presenting no difficulties for his extra-long legs, unlike Katniss, who felt like she was leaping into the great void as she measured the distance from her seat to the ground.  

Gale and Katniss had been hunting partners from a young age, when their fathers had taken them both out to teach them how to shoot and hunt in the woods surrounding their homes.  They’d continued hunting together even after their fathers had died in the same mining accident. The combination of their shared history and that tragic loss meant they were as much a part of each other’s lives as if they were family, even now that she was just a high school senior and he was already off to college.

Gale pulled the bow through the open bed in the back and was at her side before she’d resolved to take the plunge.

“You need to grow a little more,” he joked as he placed his long hands around her waist and lifted her as easily as if she had been Posy, his younger sister.  Before she could protest, she was already on the ground, feeling just as helpless as a little girl.  Dusting off her father’s old hunting jacket of leaves and forest detritus, she heard the crunching of another set of feet on the gravelly ground.

“Did you guys have fun?” Peeta asked good naturedly, though his eyes lingered on Gale’s hands as they withdrew from Katniss’ waist.  Gale passed her the bow he’d fetched from the Jeep before shaking Peeta’s hand.  

“The weather was perfect,” Katniss answered by way of greeting, her skin flushing slightly, from the memory of the cool forest and by Peeta’s sudden arrival.  “I’ll trade you one rabbit for a half-dozen cheese buns,” she teased.

Peeta blushed at her words. Peeta Mellark, the baker’s son, the boy who she’d actually known longer than Gale, but who’d only just started speaking to Katniss when they were in ninth grade. Things with Peeta were as easy as they were with Gale, except when he did things like blush when she spoke.  It twisted her insides up so bad, she could barely catch her breath.

He followed the blush by wrinkling his nose, which made him even more distracting.

“I don’t want to have to skin a rabbit.  Tell you what, I’ll give you the cheese buns I just made and you can pretend you gave me the rabbit.”

“Fresh cheese buns?” Katniss asked, her voice sounding shrill even to her own ears.  “Well, I can’t beat that!”

“Would you like something also?” Peeta asked Gale politely, though there was a slight stiffening of his posture as he drew himself up to his own height.

“Nah,” Gale said easily, waving him off as he climbed into his ride and cranked the engine. “I gotta get home.  Mom’s got the night shift and she’s out a babysitter.  Come hang out if you get bored, Catnip.”

“Okay,” Katniss said, slinging her things over her shoulder.  Peeta’s face visibly fell as he took the bow and quiver off her hands and put everything in the boot of his car.

Without a word, he led her inside the bakery, where she was assaulted right away by all the fragrant aromas of spiced and baked things.  Her stomach growled so loudly that even Philip, Peeta’s brother, heard her behind the counter.

“I don’t know where you put it,” he said, shaking his head at Katniss as he handed his brother a wax bakery bag.  “Feed the beast, will you?”

“She caught a rabbit and offered it in exchange.  You want it?” Peeta said, recovering his good mood as he removed his apron, revealing a clean pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt that clung to the muscles of torso, made strong by his time on the wrestling team and years of flinging bags of flour around the store room.  Katniss tried not to stare too much, or think about his dour moment, concentrating instead on filling the hollow in her stomach.

Philip chuckled, opening the till on the register to collect the large bills from Peeta’s shift to place them inside a leather money bag to store in the safe. “Nope, I’m good.  Dad would totally be all over that, though,” he laughed. “Now get out of here before I make you take my shift.”

“Take this, please,” Katniss whispered fiercely as they headed outside, offering Peeta a wad of singles from her pocket.

“No.  They’re a gift.  You can buy them next time,” he said as he pressed her proffered hand back towards her.

“You said that the last time you gave me a bag of cheese buns.  I can’t just keep taking stuff from you,” she said in exasperation.

Peeta opened the car door, waiting patiently for Katniss to sit down.  “That’s what...I mean, I know how much you like them and I like...I like giving them to you.”

She huffed as she dropped into his car, a small coup that was much lower and more realistic than Gale’s Jeep for a person of her size.  “I don’t like getting something for nothing,” she groused as he shut his own door, putting the car in gear.

“Well, I’m getting something for it.  I get to hang out with you,” he answered, his smile becoming lopsided as he struggled not to smirk at her.

“You don’t need to give me cheese buns to do that!” she snapped, watching again as the pink spread across his cheeks.  She looked out the window, squirming in her chair.

Peeta remained quiet for a long while as he drove, his blue eyes trained on the road ahead of him before he spoke again.  “So...ah...are you...are you going to hang out with Gale tonight?” he asked, his face the color of ripening tomatoes.  It would have been comical if she hadn’t felt the tension in the car cause the space to suddenly constrict around her.  

“I...I thought, I mean, I was just going to stop home for a shower and then we were going to Sae’s, isn’t that what we planned?”

“Yeah, I mean...yeah.  But Gale...when he said you could come over and hang out, you said okay. I...I thought maybe you’d changed your plans,” he stammered, his head turned with exaggerated attention towards the road, giving Katniss a view of his profile.  

Katniss shook her head in confusion until she recalled the exchange.  “No, I...Oh, right.  Well, no. I’m hanging out with you.  I was just distracted when I answered him.” She waved it all away as if the conversation was a pesky gnat she’d rather be rid of.

“Because, if you guys…” he continued, “I mean, you’ve been friends for a long time.  Maybe....”  Peeta’s face became very serious and the discomfort became close to unbearable. What was he getting at? He was usually so good at making himself understood and now he was no better than she was at getting his point across.  “Well, you spent the whole day with him…like your...together?” His voice faded into a whisper

“That’s because he was back from school for the weekend and we haven’t hunted in forever.  But that...that doesn’t mean...we’re...dating!” she said in almost horror at the thought.  She wanted to add, _And neither are we,_ but somehow she felt that that was the wrong thing to say and maybe, just maybe, she suddenly hoped, it wasn’t entirely true.

“I just...If you want to go out with him, don’t feel you like have to stick around with me just because you said you would.  His hands were all over you…” Her eyes widened in shock and she wanted to respond but he continued, “Why wouldn’t you guys want to go out?  It’s natural…” he said and she swore she could see the sweat popping out on his brow as he parked the car in front of her house.  His jaw was working overtime, grinding so hard, the force rippled across his muscle.  His behavior was incomprehensible to her but then it hit her like an epiphany, so hard, it threatened to make her numb from the impact of understanding.

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” she blurted out, clapping her hand over her mouth as soon as the words escaped unbidden from her lips.  Peeta rubbed his hand over his face, unable to bring his eyes up to look at hers.  She thought about the classes they shared, the way his eyes seemed to flit every time she glanced up to look at him. He had the same look of furtive shyness around him now.

“I...let’s just go inside.  I shouldn’t have brought it up,” he said as he opened his door and got out, going directly to the trunk to get her bow and quiver as she shut her own door and stared at him.  It was as if she were seeing him for the first time - his ruddy, pink cheeks glowing with embarrassment, his dreamy blue eyes the color of summer, his curly blonde hair that flopped in thick waves around his head. They were longer than usual, and she liked the mess of overlapping locks as they crowded his head.

The flitting eyes, the cheese buns, the willingness to do whatever Katniss wanted to do when they hung out.  The reserved spot at the lunch table at school. The late nights quizzing her for tests, the rides to and from school though she was perfectly capable of getting around herself...she hadn’t seen those things for what they were, at least not until now.

She led him into the house, which was empty, with her mother gone to work and her sister at her friend’s.  Peeta took up his usual spot on the sofa, flipping through Netflix and studiously keeping his eyes averted from her.  Even after she’d showered and changed, there was an extra presence, a monolithic thing that was invisible but would not be ignored.

Peeta eyes were still fixed on the screen until Katniss sat next to him on the sofa.  She’d known him long enough to notice his change in posture, the stiffening of his spine that meant he was stressed, and she found it suddenly unbearable. He was usually funny and easy to be with and she didn’t like this tension that had grown up between them.  She extended her hand and placed it over his.

“I’m ready,” she said, but her words, quietly uttered and hanging between them, were full of weight and meaning.  She wasn’t the most articulate person in the world and not very metaphysical in the least but she knew what magic was - she’d seen it between her mother and father when she was young, as they passed in the kitchen or brushed their hands against each other as they walked.  She felt it now in the heat that rose up from his skin beneath her palm.  “Are you?”

Peeta looked down at their hands, slowly turning his over until their fingers were laced together.  He gave her a small smile that was the perfect combination of sweetness and shyness and when his eyes caught hers, they were filled with possibility and something that looked like happiness.  It was perfectly natural for her to lean in, and equally perfect that his lips meet hers half-way, pressing against each other until Katniss could not longer divine how he could have ever been jealous in the first place.  

“Gale’s like a brother to me,” she said when she pulled back, their hands still entwined and a drunken feeling in the air replacing the heaviness of before.

Peeta’s eyes wandered over her face, searching for something.  He visibly relaxed, apparently satisfied with what he found.  He squeezed the hand he held, his other tugging gently at the end of her braid.

“You realize you’ll never have to pay for another cheese bun again,” he joked, and Katniss laughed, the last of the strangeness melting away into the dark corners of the house and Peeta returned to his usual self.  She pulled him up to his feet and let him put his arm around her waist.  It was warm and sturdy and she suddenly felt invincible.

“You might regret those words. I have no limit when it comes to cheese buns,” she answered.

He turned her chin up to look at her, his eyes dark and smoldering. “Bring it,” he said, “I’m ready.”

 

**_http://titania522.tumblr.com/post/123335541365/send-me-a-number-and-ill-write-a-ficlet_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Drabble 23 - Just Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss loves Trivia Crack. Things become decidedly more interesting when she loses a challenge to Peeta. Very NSFW and Explicit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I shouldn't have gone for the obvious soft porn implied by this prompt but...I went for the obvious soft porn implied by this prompt. Sorry. NSFW. Explicit. Many thanks to katnissdoesnotfollowback, peetabreadgirl and bubblegum1425 fore prereading and editing!

**#23 Just once**

 

“Are you really going to eat with that hand?” I whisper, trying desperately not to be overheard by the table full of our friends and colleagues, all waiting for dinner to be served.

 

Peeta side-eyes me, smirking with such self-satisfaction, I want to slap the cockiness right out of him.  He lifts his forefinger to his lips and quickly flicks the tip with his tongue in a gesture that appears completely casual and unconscious.  

 

“A little bit of you makes everything taste better,” he says in a low, gravelly voice that only I can hear.

 

_Fucker._

 

If I'm in this predicament at all, it is entirely his fault.  I might have even had a better time dealing with it if he didn't look so fucking proud of himself.

 

Especially when he puts his hand back under my elegant, black evening dress, sliding his fingers upwards. And despite my irritation, I get wet all over again.

 

Oh, he's discreet about it. The sneaky bastard. Look how easily he laughs at Finnick's jokes, how charmingly he answers every one of Annie's questions. This is supposed to be the annual employee dinner for _my_ co-workers. _My_ people. Yet he gets to come off as Mr. Charming while I, the worst liar in the history of forever, am the one who has to sport the fake smile on my face and pretend everything is hunky dory while he does his thing under the table.

 

I blame this entirely on him.  And Trivia Crack.

 

The question that spelled my doom was, diabolically, a baseball question.  I hate baseball with a passion. I absolutely detest sitting in front of the TV, watching a bunch of ball scratchers swing and miss at a ball.  I'm a soccer girl myself.  And soccer players hardly ever grab their own balls, though they are notorious for grabbing each other's junk, especially when the ref isn't looking.

 

Peeta, on the other hand, doesn't discriminate.  If there is sweat or competition involved, he's all over it. The result is that he has a formidable sports trivia knowledge that usually comes in handy when he challenges me to Trivia Crack.

 

My stats are respectable enough - I answer all categories correctly about 80% of the time, except maybe Art, where I come in at a not-too-shabby 72% and Science, which I blow away at 100%.  Peeta doesn't do too badly either, excelling in the categories where I lack. So when he challenged me again, I thought I had as much of a chance as he did at winning.

 

But the odds were not in my favor.  

 

_As I tapped away on my I Pad, I heard the phone vibrate.  Without taking my eyes off the screen, I swiped the lock screen and glanced at it just long enough to see a Trivia Crack notification._

 

_“You have received a challenge from HotBreadBoy.”_

 

_I chuckled to myself. We’d been sparring for a long while, with somewhat even results.  But for the last couple of weeks, I had gotten ahead of him in points and he was not taking it well.  I clicked the message bubble and read his note:_

 

_“No cheating.  Winner’s choice.”_

 

_“So you’re raising the stakes on this one, are you?” I remember muttering to myself. I tapped the bright green square to accept the challenge.  The question, of course, was going to be a sports question. That’s just how my luck went._

 

_Setting down the phone, I opened the Safari browser and left it open on the Google screen._

 

_“It’s not cheating, love muffin. It’s assisted technology,” I blurted out as I surreptitiously glanced around the apartment we shared, even though I knew he was at the bakery and wouldn’t be back for hours._

 

_“Who has played the most consecutive games of baseball, breaking Lou Gehrig's record on September 6, 1995?”_

 

_“Who gives a fuck?” I muttered to myself as I type the question into the browser.  The answer, Cal Ripken, Jr. popped up in the browser. I tapped the name in, setting the phone down and leaned back with so much self-satisfaction, I didn’t hear him come up behind me until his face was right next to mine._

 

_“Assisted technology?” he whispered, making me scream and fall out of the chair._

 

_“What...why aren’t you…!” I gasped, my heart pounding with fright as I scrambled up from where I sat, sprawled on the ground, rubbing my ass from the pain of impact._

 

_Peeta stood behind me, with his flour-covered apron, a smudge of chocolate or cinnamon on his cheek, something like matted dough meshed into the hairs at his left temple and the biggest shit-eating grin I’d ever seen in my life._

 

_“Assisted technology?” he asked, positively glowing with mischief.  I was so busted._

 

_“Jesus Christ, Peeta!  You scared the hell out of me!” I screamed to cover my guilt._

 

 _“That’s okay,_ love muffin _,” he mimicked, picking up the tablet and pointing at the open browser. “You know what this means? It means you forfeit.  And that means I win.”_

 

_“Now listen here…” I said but I knew that I didn’t have a leg to stand on. “I’ll forfeit this round but we have to play again before we go cashing in bets…”_

 

_“Nuh, uh, cheese bun,” he practically purred with delight, setting down the tablet and crossing his very muscular arms over his very wide chest.  “You’re paying up.  You cheat, you lose.  Rules are rules.”_

 

_I groaned inwardly. There was no telling where he would go with this._

 

_“Name your price but I reserve the right to negotiate.”_

 

_Peeta laughed loudly, even exaggerating a little, which made me even more wary.  He was going to milk this one for all it was worth.  “Not this time.  You are going to do exactly as I say or we don’t play any more Trivia Crack.  You can’t just pick and choose when you’re going to honor your obligations and when you’re not.”_

 

_I had to admit, I love Trivia Crack.  I played with everyone I could and sometimes just started games with random players if I was tied up waiting for Peeta or Johanna or Prim to respond to a challenge.  It was more fun than Candy Crush and made me feel smarter than the average person.  Peeta enjoyed it but wasn’t as crazy about it as I was, except when it came to cashing in on lost challenges. He knew where my weaknesses were and this game happened to be one of them._

 

_“Fine. What exactly do I have to do?”_

 

Now, I glance at his jacket pocket and see the lacy border of my tiny, black panties peeking out at me as if taunting me, just begging to be discovered. I have a moment of paranoia and sneak my hand forward, hoping to tuck the material back into his pocket. However, it’s his hand that I encounter, much to my chagrin.

 

“We had a deal,” he says with a raised eyebrow, slipping his hand into his jacket pocket, pushing the sliver of material inside, his hand lingering, perhaps massaging it to make a point. “Just once, cooperate with me.”

 

I sit back in frustration, relieved that at least my expensive panties won’t fall out at some point during the evening.  Meanwhile, he nudges my thighs apart again, whispering in my ear, “Legs open. It’s part of the deal.”

 

“Peeta Mellark, I swear to god…” I hiss as his finger flicks at my clit and I am so wet, I know I’m going to make a mess on the chair.

 

“Uh, uh, honey. You lost a bet. You are bound, by the terms and conditions of defeat, to hand over your underwear for tonight,” he says in a low voice that virtually drips with sex.

 

“It didn’t include you fingering me during a public dinner!” I spit as the waiters come around to refill the glasses.

 

Peeta shrugs. “That’s just an added bonus.”

 

I am blinded by an impotent fury at his audacity, which I find difficult to hold onto because my angry thoughts are interrupted by his fingers again.  It’s a semi-formal dinner and the table cloths are long and layered, curtains of expensive linen dangling to the ground, prodding him onward. He nudges my legs open and runs the pads of his fingers up my inner thigh.  They meet no resistance as he burrows them again and I find it hard to believe that no one has caught on to him, except that the lighting, the decorations, and the seating arrangements all conspire to conceal his teasing, the way he carelessly drags his moist fingers up and down my slit.  I inch forward slightly, trying to create more friction, even though I am technically still _very, very, angry at him_.

 

He hums in appreciation but the sound is drowned out by Annie’s tinkling voice coming from across the table. “Katniss, you’re so quiet tonight. Are you feeling alright?”

 

“Yeah,” I answer, somewhat breathlessly. “I’m just getting over a bug, that’s all.”

 

“You did seem a little winded this week at the office,” Annie offers innocently, though, to be fair, I always look a little winded at work.

 

“Oh?” Finnick perks up. Like most doctors, even the hint of infection or illness draws his interest. “In fact, you look a little flushed. Do you have a fever?”

 

I stiffen, wondering how much my face gives away as Peeta now draws circles over my center, winding me up like a toy.  I clench my legs together to signal him that maybe now would be a good time to stop his teasing so I can carry on a coherent conversation.  Perhaps realizing that I am incapable of being both aroused and engaging at the same time, he withdraws his hand with a slight chuckle, placing his palm over my forehead.  I can smell myself on him.  “You seem a little warm. Do you think you’re going to make it the entire night?”  he asked with feigned innocence.

 

“Oh, I’ll be fine, thank you,” I answer, making no effort to hide my impatience with him.

 

“Good. I’d hate for us to have to leave early when we’re having such a good time,” he said, biting his lip at the end to keep from laughing at me.

 

“Fuck you…” I seethe beneath my breath as Annie and Finnick become distracted by a couple at another table.

 

“I hope and pray for it,” he says, his hand nudging between my clamped thighs and despite my irritation, I open them again, his long finger slipping inside of me with a sudden thrust.  I take in a sharp, involuntary breath at the shocking invasion. This time, I tilt my hips upward, smiling sweetly at my friend, Madge, at another table, who waves at me in greeting. He is pumping as best as the cramped surroundings allow and I’m ready to sink under the table and take his hand with me, trying not to mewl loudly, like a damned cat in heat as something in my belly starts to build.  

 

I feel my eyes close and my breath speed up and I have to snap my head to keep focused on the pianist who has now begun to play on the stage, the light darkening so that only he appears in the spot light.  Goddammit, it’s like Peeta planned the whole thing and the entire conference center has conspired to allow him to get me off in public.

 

“Rumor has it that a guest chef was employed for tonight’s dinner.” I hear the voice of Effie Trinket, the Senior Manager of Human Resources, float by my ears as Peeta slows his pace, responding with some inane, polite comment to her observation. “Mr. Heavensbee has spared no expense!” she says gleefully and I honestly want to give a shit but I am so close, so very close...

 

“Will you excuse me for a moment?”  I say abruptly, setting my napkin down on my chair as I stand up and walk briskly to the ladies room.  I’m a sopping mess and I’m shaking in my heels and now, because of him, I have to get myself cleaned up just so I can enjoy my meal.

 

After I’ve managed to get my heart rate back to normal and tidy up a bit, I step out of the restroom to find Peeta waiting for me, a look of infinite innocence on his face.

 

“How is your fever, Katniss?” he teases. I am utterly furious with him, a condition exacerbated by my sustained state of arousal. He is some kind of sexy tonight - classic suit and tie with a pin clip that matches my pendant.  His hair is brushed away from his forehead and everything south of my belly gets overheated again, rendering completely useless the work I’ve done to clean up.  I grab his hand and yank him behind me.

 

“Follow me,” I bark at him as I stomp down the corridor.

 

I find the first room adjacent to the dining area, a smaller, empty conference room. I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing but I follow the cables from the raised dais to a nook where the audio-visual equipment lies nestled in a corner.  There is a small presentation table before which I stop and whirl around to glare at him.

 

“Katniss…” he starts and I am very satisfied to see that he has suddenly lost a little bit of that jocular air that he’s had the entire night.

 

I don’t give him a chance to speak, instead pulling him by his tie and crushing his lips to mine.  He’s completely taken by surprise but overcomes his shock immediately, pulling me flush against him to return my kiss, his hands running the entire length of my body until they are under my dress, cupping and squeezing my exposed ass.

 

When we pull away, I’m panting.  I back away slowly, propping myself on top of the table with the help of my very high heels and hike up my tiny black dress.  I spread my legs slowly, giving him an eyeful of the mess he’s made out of me.  “You need to finish me.” I say as I run my own fingers along my lips.

 

Peeta’s eyes widen, the blue going slate with sudden lust, which makes me shake my head at him.  What the hell was he expecting with all of that teasing, anyway?  I am so hot and wet and throbbing, I can barely focus on my name, much less on the conversations taking place around me at dinner.

 

“I have to talk to these people come Monday so If you don’t do something about this, I will.” I say this as I dip my finger inside, pumping myself the way he was doing earlier, except now I don’t have anything stopping me from coming.

 

His tongue is practically hanging out of his mouth at the sight of me, open before him.  He tries to speak, opening and closing his mouth but no sound comes out.  I pump and work myself faster, feeling the rising wave that, until now, I’ve struggled to keep at bay.

 

As if waking from a trance, he quickly undoes his belt, dropping his pants and underwear in one smooth motion into a pool at his feet. He reaches behind me and grabs a handful of my hair, pulling me up to to kiss him roughly, the thumb of his other hand swiping at my slit.

 

“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he groans as he yanks my hips forward, hiking my leg over his shoulder. He plunges in with one powerful, thrust, burying himself completely, hissing when he can’t go any deeper.  I want to rip his shirt open and bite his chest, out of fury and frustration for the state he’s brought me to. But I have some rationality still intact and opt instead to lie back on the table and revel in his thrusts.

 

“Come on, you can do better than that!” I shout, my body trembling at the edge of what I expect to be one monstrous orgasm. He can barely keep up with me and it serves him right, after the game he played tonight. I pull the straps of my dress down and touch my breasts, twisting and kneading them until his hands replace mine and then his mouth.

 

His face is contorted, sweat gathering on his brow despite the over-cooled climate of the air conditioned room. _Good_ , I think to myself as the table bangs against the wall behind us.  He pulls off his jacket, flinging it somewhere over to the side and leans his hands on either side of me. The force of him slamming into me feels so good, I can’t stop myself from letting go.  I slip my fingers over my clit and rub myself, and then come, so hard, it sucks him right in.  He stares at me as I fall apart and soon he’s shaking over me, the hard slap of his thighs against mine resounding throughout the room.  His grunts turn into a long moan as he releases, his body rocking into mine with the last of his tremors.

 

It takes me a few moments to return to myself when I realize we’ve made a huge mess. I’m drenched in sweat and my makeup is smudged.  I can only imagine what a rat’s nest my hair’s become. And I have no words for Peeta - perspiring, wrinkled, looking like he’s been thoroughly fucked, which I suppose he has. I suddenly feel very smug as I pull the straps of my dress over my exposed breasts.  We glance down at ourselves, then at each other, and burst into a fit of completely inappropriate laughter.

 

“What do we do now?” I ask between gasps as Peeta’s head hangs over me, his shoulders still shaking with his own mirth.  He shrugs as he looks up, wiping his face with his hand, then pausing to take a sniff.

 

“Now everything smells like you,” he chuckles before pulling out, trying his best to tidy himself.  He pulls me up and gives me a hug, which is almost as satisfying as the sex we’ve just had. I would never have been able to do something like that with anyone else and he knows that.  I think once two people realize they’ve gone beyond the limits that hem other people in, when they know that they can do or be or have anything in front of that each other, knowing they are going be loved anyway, then words become superfluous.  Loving each other becomes the shortcut for all the other things that can be said or done between them.

 

I return his hug with equal ferocity, kissing him for good measure. “Bathroom. Ten minutes. Think you can get cleaned up that fast?” I ask.

 

Peeta’s eyes twinkle happily, though there is the tell-tale drowsiness that always overtakes him whenever he comes in a really intense way.  “Yeah. Just remember, you have a fever and we needed to get you outside for some fresh air. Okay?”

 

“Sounds good,” I say as I smooth the wrinkles from his clothing.  He opens the door of the room to let me pass but as I head towards the restroom, he pulls me back and gives me another kiss.

 

“I love you, Katniss,” he says with that utter sincerity that can make me forgive him for anything he’s ever done or will ever do.

 

“I love you too, Peeta, “ I answer, kissing him in return before dipping into the restroom to clean up.  When I’m satisfied I don’t look like I just got laid, I step outside to find him waiting for me, looking almost as dashing as he did when he first left the dining room.

 

We return to the table, concern for my well-being turning to relief when we assure everyone that I will likely survive the rest of dinner.  Luckily, our meals were set aside for us and we dig in with an impressive appetite. I shove Peeta gently because I know why he’s so hungry.

 

After, I become engrossed in a discussion with Madge, who’s come to take the chair next to me before dessert is served when I hear the vibration of my telephone.  Excusing myself, I pull it out and swipe the screen to see the tell-tale Trivia Crack notification.

 

_You have received a challenge from HotBreadBoy._

 

I look up at Peeta, who’s chatting away with Finnick, his phone lying innocently on the table. He laughs at something his friend says while his eyes flit quickly over to mine.  A slight waggling of his eyebrows and a smile officially launches the challenge.

 

I don’t have my I Pad or a browser. I don’t have any way around it if I can’t answer the question. But I like my odds, because whether I win or lose, they’re always in my favor.

 

I tap the green square that says _Accept_.

  
  
  


 


	3. Kiss Me - Prompt 13

**Drabble 13 - Kiss Me**

 

**13\.  "Kiss Me"**

 

**_...I make love with him_ **

**_as if I made love dying_ **

**_as if I made love praying,_ **

**_tears pour_ **

**_over my arms and his arms._ **

**_I don’t know whether this is joy_ **

**_or sadness, I don’t understand_ **

**_what I feel, [...]_ **

**_I thank you, my fate,_ **

**_I’m unworthy, how beautiful_ **

**_my life._ **

**-from _Thank You My Fate_ by Anna Swir, _translated from the Polish by Czeslaw Milosz_**

It is a day the old Katniss would have loved.  The clear, blue sky and warm, almost balmy air is out of place for September, as if someone had plucked a random day from the month of May and put it wherever they felt like.

Peeta walks quietly along the path, his large, calloused hand holding hers. Their arms swing slightly, reminding Katniss of her school yard days, when little girls walked hand in hand and played games like Ring Around The Rosy and London Bridge, though what London Bridge was, Katniss never knew. Instead of making her miserable, the memory makes her smile.

Peeta catches her expression and smiles also but doesn’t press. They don’t ask each other a whole lot of questions. That’s not their way.  But they talk. A lot.  Katniss doesn’t recall ever speaking to anyone as much as she’s spoken to Peeta. Not even to her sister.

She freezes, suddenly wishing these traitorous thoughts would leave her. Her memories of her sister are minefields that she has not yet learned to fully maneuver. But she remains calm and lets them wash through her, the way Dr. Aurelius taught her.  The image of her sister sears through her soul, awakening the old flames that once left tracks on her skin.  But they die down to waiting embers, smoldering for now, until they are powerful enough to flare up again.

Peeta waits for the inevitable end, the way she often waits for him, with firm arms wrapped around him and feet planted wide, as his tremors pass. They’ve gotten good at that. Listening. And waiting.

“Haymitch came to help with the reconstruction today,” Peeta says at length, as Katniss helps him over a boulder. His prosthetic is firm and solid but it will never be his leg and there will always be that diffidence in commanding it, that awareness on Peeta’s part that it is an interloper where his flesh should be.  So he second-guesses it by using Katniss as leverage as he maneuvers the dead, metallic thing over the vibrantly mossy stone.

“How long did he stay upright?” she asks, catching sight of something that makes her eyes widen in excitement.

“Till about lunch, I’d say…” Peeta answers but he senses her heightened energy and follows her line of sight.  “Are those…”

“Truffles?  Yes!” Katniss lets Peeta’s hand go and races down the side of the small earth bank, landing at the foot of a tree.  Falling to her hand and knees, she slings the leather pouch where she usually carries her herbs over her hip. “My father used to make these with a touch of animal fat or oil over the hard bread we used to make in the Seam.  He traded most of what he found at the Hob but he always kept a little back for us.” She gathered them in clumps, cutting the stems carefully with her small hunting knife to keep them from fraying.  “It’s been years since I’ve had them.”

Peeta descended the bank, sliding on the forest detritus to land awkwardly at Katniss’ side. “I think I’ve only ever had them once or twice and was too young to really enjoy them.”

She hands him a clump of the homely mushrooms and he raises them to his nose to smell.  “Who knew something so damned ugly could be such a treat?”

“That’s nature for you,” Katniss huffed as she slid along the moist ground, hoping to find another bundle and bursting in delight when she finds a second patch.  “She gives you everything you need but you have to have the eyes to see it,” she says as she digs out the last clump, triumphantly wielding her prize before her.  “We can make them with potatoes or grain…”

Peeta gives her his hand and helps her up to her feet. “How about with the gosling you caught yesterday?”    

Katniss’ eyes light up again.  Food is one of the few things that consistently makes her happy.  Food and Peeta. “Sounds good. We're going to have a feast tonight.”  She dusts the dirt from her hands as best she can and leads them back to their familiar walking path.  She feels light, as if she’s been given a gift without occasion.  Peeta squeezes her hand harder and the feeling of lightness hovers between them like a puffy, white cloud among the mountain peaks.

They complete their usual walk as Peeta tells Katniss about the happenings in town while she worked at home. She often goes to trade with Greasy Sae and others in the Town Market; the revived version of the Hob, except the businesses are now legitimate.  She’s only recently joined the rebuilding effort, though she doesn’t go every day. Being with people is becoming a little easier but she still finds herself becoming overwhelmed by the demands of politeness that are required to function among others.  And when she has her bad days, she’s no good to anyone anyway.

Peeta spots a wild rosemary bush on the way back and clips several of the sturdy, waxy branches, intent on using them on the gosling and truffles. Katniss has been teaching him the different herbs that can be found in the woods and, because of his innate talent for detail, he is a quick study, rarely confusing the plants.  He finds a handful of other herbs and flowers and fills his own pouch before they return through the new fence to their home in Victor’s Village.

They wash the food carefully and set about to prepare dinner.  Peeta peels potatoes while Katniss stuffs the gosling with bread, nuts, and herbs.  Soon, they’ve laid the bird dressed in rosemary over a bed of cubed potatoes and truffles and admire the final result like proud parents.  Katniss has set some of the truffles aside, still undecided as to whether she will trade them or just eat them. Need no longer drives those kinds of decisions.

She’s got a half-smile on her face as she sets the oven timer when Peeta’s arms snake around her waist. She doesn’t flinch, which is all part of the way she feels today, so he takes the absence of hesitation as permission to pull her towards him, his head resting on the crook of her neck.

“Do you want to wash up?” he murmurs against her skin.  She turns, stretching her arms over his broad shoulders and nods.  Intimacy is another minefield with them - just to be naked with each other took months of inching forward, between their scars and the racing hearts that reminded them too much of fear.  Sudden bursts of intense emotions still unsettle them, so they opt for the slowest, quietest paths to each other’s hearts.

He rains gentle kisses along her neck and chin as she nuzzles against him.  It feels so impossibly good to hold him in this way, to feel his hair tickle her cheek as he makes his way up to her lips.  They kiss often, and use their hands with each other.  It’s one of the ways they make each other feel good, when feeling good can sometimes be so hard.

Katniss drags her hands over Peeta’s shoulders and arms, tracing the sinews beneath the webbing of burn scars.  She has them too but he’s made a game of running his fingers along the puckered, raised patches of skin and now she’s taken it up also, her fingers dancing pirouettes along the ridges of melted flesh.  It’s a double-edged sword for it will always remind them of the flames that took so much.  Soon she is clutching him as it all washes through her. She wills the memories to flee instead of lingering so she can enjoy this night with him.

**XXXXX**

Later, barefoot and clean, they gorge themselves on their meal.  When they sit on their porch after dinner, Katniss playfully pokes Peeta’s belly. They sip iced tea, swinging gently on the porch swing, listening for signs of life from Haymitch’s house. But either he is sleeping or he has decided to keep to himself tonight, which suits Katniss just fine. She’s in a good mood and does not want to share it with anyone other than Peeta.  After a while, Peeta stands and tentatively offers her his hand. It’s early - too early for sleep but they don’t always sleep, and she feels it too, the pull of an invisible cord that connects her belly to his, her heart to his.  It’s a good night for it, and she sets her glass down, following him upstairs.

They have their routines - brushing their teeth, combing their hair, turning down the blankets.  The unspoken agreement between them is that if they follow things just right, they can keep the chaos away - the chaos that brings death and violence into their lives. There have been no uprisings in the last year, no murders or purges, not since the old regime fell. Yet trusting anything beyond each other is still something they have not fully come to terms with.  Rituals become automatic and comfort them both in their familiarity.

Except that Peeta surprises her with music when she returns from the bathroom. It’s a lovely ballad from one of the stations they enjoy the most, which features folk music similar to the typical songs of District 12.  He tugs on her hand and pulls her to him, and Katniss, who feels like she is floating, lets him lead her as he sways. She hums the refrain in his ear, which is a simple and easy one, though she does not know the lyrics.  She fears the happiness in her heart, fears that it will be taken away or worse, turned into grief but she lets it blossom anyway.  She presses her ear to his chest and the _thump-thump-thump_ slows the banging of her own heart.  

They sway for another song, when Peeta tilts her head upward by the chin, and whispers, “Kiss me?”

She nods, melting into the warmth of his arms around her back. He gently nips at her lips before pressing against them, silently asking her to give way to him, which she does.  This too, is the gift of life for her, and she takes a long drought, kissing him back with as much fervor as she can stand, which is always more as time passes.   

Peeta had opened the window earlier so that now,the cool air bathes them in the hint of fading autumn. But Katniss feels summer rising in her blood.  Her hands are bolder as they tug the drawstring of his pants, and she feels that thing she felt on the beach, so long ago, when she was still herself, so full of fire and still bearing wings.  It doesn’t terrify her, not as much as usual.  She is still light and happy enough to endure it and it occurs to her as Peeta’s hands make their way up her back under her t-shirt, that fire is not the shield that hope is against pain and fear.

They are soon on their bed, wrapped around each other, running their hands over the familiar terrain of their bodies. She was once so shy, she wouldn’t even undress in front of Peeta. But little by little, they have learned to reveal more of themselves to each other.  Now he hovers over her naked body, his hands drawing more heat from her.  His mouth covers hers in kisses, which she returns clumsily but eagerly.  

She feels his hand slip down between her legs and gasps at the feeling of his fingers there.  She has no words to describe that thing he does, where he makes her rock like a sailboat before sending her crashing over the rocks.  He’s offered her more, wants to do more but until now, she’s hesitated, because it all seems more than her system can take.

But tonight, she still feels good, so when his hands do their dance, she stops them and looks meaningfully at him. “Kiss me?”

Peeta studies her for sincerity, the pause meant to give her the chance to renounce but she presses on his shoulder and he follows, leaving a trail of kisses over her stomach as she widens her legs for him. He knows things - so many more things than she does. She doesn’t ask how he knows because they are beyond the petty jealousies that hold other couples hostage. Most likely, whichever girl gave him access to her body is now beneath the meadow and she cannot resent anyone who ended up there, no matter the offense.  

Instead, she is grateful for his gentleness, the sweet way his tongue tastes her, how she doesn’t feel rushed or forced.  He asks her if she’s fine and though she wants to clench her legs tightly together, she tells him _yes_ because she still feels good, even better than good, as the familiar tightening in her belly takes her breath away.  He catches her gasps, her moans that tell him she is close and adds his fingers along with his lips, until she is gripping his curls and with back bowed, falls apart with noisy shouts of his name.

Peeta crawls up to lay next to her as her languid waves wash through her.  The sun is gone and long night shadows cross the room from the distant lamp and the moon that hangs still low in the sky.  He leaves kisses on her shoulders, his erection thumping against her hip, drawing her out of her stupor. She presses him back, kissing him, tasting the strange taste of herself and not minding at all.  When her hands have skated and teased their way across his skin, she grasps his hardness, feeling the tip for the small drop she knows sits in the weepy eye before sliding her palm over him. He’s taught her how to stroke him, what it takes to make him feel good but she wants to do more.  She squeezes gently and nudges him with her lips before she asks, “Can I?”

“You mean...kiss me?”

“I can try," she presses.

His cock twitches in her hand as he nods, and she slides down over him, leaving kisses at first because she’s not at all sure what it would take to please him in this way. But she listens and waits, paying attention to his hands as she moves over him, her lips sliding up and down his shaft, her hand at the base where her lips cannot reach.  He guides her with gentle pressure on her hair, whispers when she should go harder, softer, slower, faster.

“Your teeth,” he gasps, to which she apologizes and then sheathes them, kissing him before returning to her rhythm.

“Like that?” she asks.

He nods, his breath lost in his chest and, from the pressure of his hand, she knows she must speed up.  It doesn’t take him long before he pulls himself from her mouth, his hand encircling hers as one, two, three small strokes bring him to completion, his stomach now covered in pearly drops, some shimmering on the trail of curls along his belly.

She glances around her and finds the tissues she placed on the table precisely for this reason.  She cleans him, tossing everything when she’s done and lays against his chest, his heart slowing to its normal _thump-thump_ against her ear.  She drags her fingers placidly over his skin - she’s mapped each curve and contour and still finds she has more to discover. Maybe, if she is lucky, she will have the rest of her life to learn him.  

Peeta clutches her tightly, impulsively, as if assuring himself of her presence.  He thanks her, telling her how lucky he is to have her and leaves drowsy kisses in her hair before he slips into his slumber.  Katniss smiles. He sounds drunk, which maybe they both are, though it has nothing to do with spirits.  She waits for it, the even rise and fall of his breathing.  She’s learned he’s close to useless after his orgasm and wonders briefly at the difference between them, the wonderful mysteries of a woman and a man being together in this way.  

Katniss tugs the duvet over them and settles into Peeta’s side.  She is overcome by a brief moment of terror as her eyes flutter closed, fearing that sleep will only bring nightmares that she will drag with her into the following days.  On mornings that follow such nights, it’s nearly impossible to get out of bed. Not that it’s ever easy. But every now and then, like today, the heavy lead weight that pulls on her body and soul seems to give way and when it does, she has this - Peeta and her on their solitary journey. And she’s grateful. Not for the death or the horrors that brought them here. She’d change all of that in an instant, if it would bring Prim, or any of the ones she’s lost, back to her.

No, she’s grateful that, despite all of their losses, there are still kisses left to exchange. After the fire and the destruction, there is something left in them to give. And she is humbled by how beautiful and fragile her life is.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by anonymous. Also based on a post about combat PTSD and Sexuality on tumblr (http://titania522.tumblr.com/post/125004440510/combat-ptsd-and-sexuality). Thank you for reading!


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